CHAPTER VIII

A MIDNIGHT VISITOR

My visitor was a porcupine, a great, clumsy creature who was far more frightened at my presence than I at his. Realizing that here was food come to my larder of its own free will, I scrambled out of bed, closed my door, and, carefully avoiding my prickly visitor, made my way toward the fire. Shoving a resinous stick into the coals, I soon had a flaming torch, and by its light I discovered the porcupine scratching and gnawing at the door in an endeavor to escape. I ended his career by knocking him over the nose, and then, barring the door to prevent any other nocturnal visitors from disturbing my slumber, I returned to bed.

The roasted porcupine proved most toothsome, and as I gnawed at his bones I wondered why I had not thought of hunting these creatures before. That they were abundant in the forest I knew, and I also was aware that they were considered excellent eating by all the guides and woodsmen, and yet, until one of the brutes actually forced his presence upon me porcupines had never occurred to me as a source of food. Now, however, I made up my mind to hunt up a den of the creatures at the first opportunity, for I knew that where one was found there were usually numbers of them.

I had met with some difficulty in removing the skin, with its innumerable sharp quills, but I had noticed how tough the hide was and I vaguely wondered if I could not manage to tan and use it.

With its adhering quills it was quite useless, and I realized that if merely dried, like the skin of the beaver, this tough, thick skin would be as stiff and hard as a board. If I was to make use of the hide at all I must devise some method of removing hair and quills and must tan the skin so that it would be flexible and soft. In my youth I had often visited a tannery and I knew that oak bark and sumach were used in making leather, but, rack my memory as I would, I could not remember ever having seen the process by which the hair was removed from the hides.

I attempted to pluck out the quills by hand, but only pricked my fingers, and I found it also impossible to cut or shave the hair and quills from the skin with my knife. I had worked at this for some time and was becoming thoroughly disgusted with the matter when it flashed across my mind that I might be able to remove the hair by decomposition. Many a time I had seen the hair or feathers drop from game which had been hung too long, and I knew that long before the meat was tainted or the hide was seriously injured the hair would come away. Realizing that the skin would dry before it would rot if hung up in the air, I buried it in the soft earth in a shady spot and spent some time gathering a quantity of oak and sumach bark, which I boiled in the iron pot.

Having accomplished this, I decided to hunt for the porcupine’s home. My foot was now paining me but slightly and I had become quite accustomed to the use of a crutch, so that I was able to start at once. Knowing that porcupines frequented rocky ledges, I turned my steps toward a little wooded rise. A few hundred yards from the cabin I came upon a mass of rocks with great cavities and fissures between them. This seemed a promising spot for a porcupine-den. In my crippled state it was difficult to make my way over and between the boulders, but I had plenty of time and I crawled and scrambled about, peering into every crevice and cranny. I had been thus engaged for several hours when in a deep fissure I saw numerous quills scattered about, while projecting roots in the vicinity were gnawed bare of bark. Here was the den, I felt sure, and without hesitation I scrambled down into it and peered into the darkness.

I could distinguish nothing at first, but as my eyes became accustomed to the obscurity of the cavern I saw a darker spot in the farther corner of the den and heard the rustling, rattling noise of a porcupine’s quills as the creature raised them in defense. Now that I had found my porcupine, the next question was how I was to capture him. I had no mind to attempt to grasp the rascal with my bare hands, and, like a fool, I had not brought my primitive weapons with me. I thought of building a fire and smoking the creature out and then knocking him over the head with a club, but my fire-making apparatus was in the cabin and I had no mind to make the journey again if it could be avoided. I was wondering how I could solve the puzzle when it occurred to me that I might snare him exactly as I had snared the partridges. In a few moments I had secured a strong strip of moosewood bark, had formed a noose in it, and with it attached lightly to the end of a slender pole I poked it into the cave and tried to slip it over the porcupine’s head.

But stupid and clumsy as he was, the brute backed away from the noose each time I poked it toward him, and if over and over again I was compelled to withdraw it and form the slip-noose anew. I was tired and cramped and was about to give in despair when I felt a tug at the bark, and, pulling upon it, found I had at least secured a hold upon my prey. Dropping the pole, I hauled on the strip of bark, and a moment later drew the porcupine from his lair, grunting, scratching, and bristling with anger.

He was snared by one hind foot. I knocked him over the head and, slinging him to the end of a pole, returned to my hut, well pleased with the hunt.

The next day I dug up his mate’s skin and, much to my delight, found the hair had started and the quills came away readily. The second skin was buried, and a few days later both were free of quills and hair, and after washing them in the lake I placed them in the bark liquor which I had prepared. Five days later I removed them, rinsed them off, and was immensely elated to find that they had assumed a rich brown tint and had been transformed to tough leather. Now that my mind had turned to tanning, I recalled many little details. Among other matters I recollected how the tanners worked the hides upon rounded timbers or horses, and, while I did not know the reason why this was done, I assumed it was an essential part of the tanning process, and so I placed the porcupines’ skins upon a fallen tree and worked at them diligently until they were thoroughly dried and all bits of adhering flesh and fat had been removed. The results of my labor were two soft, brown pieces of leather nearly two feet in length by a foot in width, and I felt immensely proud of my success at leathermaking. My only regret was that I could not find more of the prickly beasts, but, although I hunted diligently, I was forced to the conclusion that there were no more in the neighborhood.

The pain had now quite gone from my foot, but it was still impossible to use it. The slightest pressure upon it caused me excruciating torture and the ankle seemed to have no strength. I was terribly worried over it, for I feared I would never be able to use it again, and with only one good foot I dared not wander far from the cabin, for fear I might slip or fall and injure my good leg and thus be left helpless in the forest.

On one or two occasions I had hobbled off along the old trail for a mile or more, but it appeared to lead into the heart of the wilderness and I was convinced that if it led to the settlements it must be by a long and roundabout route.

The weather was now becoming very cold, frosts were of nightly occurrence, and once or twice a thin layer of ice skimmed the water at the edges of the pools. I suffered a great deal from the cold, hardened and accustomed as I was to exposure, and I knew that unless I made my way out of the forest or managed to invent some sort of covering for my body I would soon succumb to the weather.

Had I been able to secure enough porcupine-skins, or even rabbit-skins, I might have made some sort of garment, but both rabbits and porcupines were very scarce. I had snared and shot a number of partridges, and their skins, sewed together, I made into a vest-like garment, but the delicate skins tore apart with the least strain and I used the affair only when sleeping or sitting in the cabin.

The ragged, rotten old clothes which I had used as a quilt were some protection, but these soon gave out and I was faced with the serious problem of freezing to death or securing enough hides to make a covering for my nakedness. The chances seemed all in favor of freezing.

My shoes, or rather, my shoe—for I could use but one foot—had now worn through, and I determined to attempt making moccasins from the tough porcupine-hides. Fortunately I had seen Joe make moccasins, and after one or two trials I succeeded in producing a very serviceable form of foot-gear. I remembered that Joe always marked a pattern on the leather around his foot, but I did not feel sure how he gauged the size and, fearing to waste any of my valuable leather by a mistake, I hit upon the plan of ripping open my old shoe and using this for a pattern. Placing the split shoe, sole down, upon the porcupine-skin, I marked around it with a bit of charred stick and cut out the form with my knife. Then from the trimmings I cut tongues, as I had seen Joe do, and these I sewed to the uppers so that the latter were puckered, or gathered up, over the instep. Finally I sewed up the heels, cut string from the hides, and my first moccasin was complete.

All this occupied a great deal of time and labor and was far more difficult than it sounds, for my only tool was my knife, and as I worked slowly and clumsily with this I longed for an awl or needle. With my mind on such things I remembered that I had heard of Indians using bone needles, and I decided to try and make one with which to sew the other moccasin. There were plenty of bones at hand, and I selected several and commenced rubbing one upon a flat stone to grind it to a point.

I had worked diligently for some time when I suddenly remembered the old grindstone and, laughing at my own stupidity, for I had repeatedly used the stone for sharpening my knife, I proceeded to sharpen the bones in a simple and easy manner.

I had ground down one bone to form a fairly fine needle-pointed tool when my glance fell upon the old rusty file. The sharp tang of the file suggested an awl at once, and, marveling that I had not thought of it sooner, I proceeded to grind it to a fine point.

In a few minutes I had an excellent awl and with its aid I found the completion of my moccasins easy. The heavy file made the tool clumsy, however, and as soon as the moccasins were finished I set to work to break the awl-like end from the file itself. It seemed a simple matter and the reader may smile at my spending a moment’s thought over breaking off one end of a file, but to me it was an affair of great importance, for I was afraid of snapping the steel in the wrong spot and thus ruining the awl which I found so useful. With only stones as hammers, I realized it would be difficult to break the metal in the desired place, and I pondered on the matter for some time before it occurred to me to cut the piece from the file by means of the grindstone.

While I was cutting through the file it flashed upon me that the remaining portion of the tool might be transformed into a most efficient weapon. To be sure, I had no real need of a weapon, for my flimsy bow and arrows and frog-spear had served all my needs. But I had seen deer tracks on several occasions and had even caught a fleeting glimpse of the creatures more than once, and while I had made no effort to molest them, knowing the hopelessness of such an attempt, I had longed to secure them and their hides. With a powerful spear, such as I could form from the old file, I thought it might be possible to kill a deer or some other large animal. Therefore I promptly set to work to grind the steel down to sharp edges and a point. I soon found, however, that the grindstone made scarcely any impression upon the file, and that, if I was to succeed, I must soften the metal by means of fire. I hesitated to do this, for fear that I would not be able to retemper it properly, but at last I thrust the file into the coals of my fire. When it was red-hot I raked it forth and allowed it to cool slowly. I now found the stone bit into the steel rapidly, and I felt genuine pride in my accomplishment as I watched the old file slowly assume the shape of a shining spear-head. It was hard work, however, and I stopped to rest many times before the task was half finished. In fact, I spent a large part of two days at this labor, and several times I was on the point of giving up the work as not being worth the trouble and exertion. At last, however, the spear-head was completed, and again placing it in the fire, I heated it to a cherry red, pulled it out from the coals, and dumped it into the kettle full of cold water. I found it had taken an excellent temper, and I then selected a straight, light pole of ash, bound the head to it with sinews and roots, and my spear was completed. I was proud of the result of all my work, for it certainly looked like a most efficient weapon, but I was in some doubt as to my ability to throw it accurately. I hobbled forth to try my skill. I had no mind to ruin or break the weapon by using it against a tree, but I remembered a rotten old stump which I had seen near the edge of the woods. This offered an excellent target.

I approached within a dozen yards of the stump, steadied myself on my crutch, and, balancing the spear, threw it with all my strength. The weapon fell far short of the mark and descended wrong end first. Then I realized that the pole was far too heavy for the head.

Cutting off a foot or so of the haft, I tried again, and found that the spear traveled in a straighter line and it struck near the base of the stump. This was encouraging, and by trimming off the pole a little at a time and by numerous trials I at last had the satisfaction of seeing the keen point bury itself in the rotten wood.

Again and again I hurled the weapon, each time gaining greater skill and retreating farther from the stump, until I could drive the spear into the stump at twenty paces every time.

My arm was now so tired with the unaccustomed exercise that I abandoned my target practice and returned to the cabin, well pleased with the success of my spear-making and quite convinced that if I could but find a deer I would have a very good chance of killing him.

During the day, while busy with my work, and interested, I felt quite optimistic and planned most wonderful things, but when alone in my cabin at night I often grew terribly despondent and saw matters in a very different light. While throwing the spear in the bright sunshine it had not seemed at all unreasonable to think of trailing a deer and killing him like a primitive hunter, but as I thought over the matter that night it seemed a most visionary and ridiculous scheme. To trail a deer and bring him down with a javelin would be a difficult feat at any time, and now, with my crippled foot, I realized that I would be hopelessly handicapped. In vain I tried to persuade myself that, as I had seen deer before, I might see them again, and that chance might favor me; in vain I tried to think up some other method of obtaining the wherewithal for the garments I so greatly needed. I could see nothing promising, nothing hopeful ahead, and, finally, convinced that I was doomed to die here in this deserted cabin in the wilderness, I fell asleep.

I was aroused from my slumber by the sound of something scratching at the door. Instantly I was wide awake, with all my faculties on the alert. Presently the sound was repeated; there was no doubt that some creature was nosing about and endeavoring to enter the cabin. Another porcupine, I thought to myself, and, slipping cautiously from my bed, I grasped my spear and, as silently as my injured foot would permit, stole toward the door. This was a rude slab affair, without lock, bar, or latch, and kept closed by a strip of bark looped over a peg in the wall.

Slipping off this fastening, I threw the door open, and as I did so I stumbled back in terror, and only the heavy door saved me from tumbling head over heels into the hut. I had expected to see a clumsy, harmless porcupine, and instead, clearly outlined in the bright moonlight, his grinning teeth and gleaming wicked eyes fixed on my face, stood a great, shaggy figure. My visitor was an enormous bear!

For a brief second I stood transfixed with surprise and fear, and then, without stopping to think, I hurled my spear full at the creature with all my strength, slammed the door to, and braced myself against it.